Unlocked Door
by LenkaJeneva
Summary: Voldemort's barely been gone for a day, and Sirius Black's already in Azkaban. Sirius Black's barely been in Azkaban for a day, and he's already escaped. Alright, who's the idiot who forgot to lock the cell door? And what about little Harry Potter?
1. Chapter 1

**Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all!**

**I'm pretty excited by my haul this year, did pretty good in the present area. And I got _The Idiot_ by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Makes me happy.**

**So, I began writing this months ago. I started during the off hours at school when I was doing (quite literally) nothing. And, if you want the summary, here goes nothing:**

**Voldemort's barely been gone a day, and Sirius Black's in Azkaban. Sirius Black's barely been in Azkaban for a day, and he's escaped. Alright, who's the idiot who forgot to lock the cell door? And what about little Harry Potter?**

**Quite simply, Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban quite a bit earlier.**

* * *

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

Minister Bagnold looked up from the paperwork scattered across her desk slowly, as if unsure of what was just said. The woman stared at the Auror standing in the office doorway with growing horror. "Could you repeat that," she asked, slowly, wanting to make sure that this wasn't what she thought it was.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban sometime last night around 0400 ma'am," the man said, seemingly completely unaware of the state of his crumpled red robes that he had thrown on at probably the same time as Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.

"And how," the Minister started, "would Sirius Black have been able to escape only several hours after he had been locked away?" She said this slowly, as if daring the man to continue on with this ridiculous farce, knowing that this would more than likely be the end of her political career.

The Auror took seemingly no notice of her tone either, "We're investigating the best we can ma'am," he said quickly, running a hand through his hair tiredly, unaware of the large shadow behind him, "We've already–"

"Get Dawlish!" The Auror, Dawlish, jumped and spun around at the yell. Upon seeing Moody, his superior, the aforementioned shadow that he hadn't noticed, he scrambled out of the Ministers office quickly, his burnt and dirty red robes spiraling out of sight as he scrambled around to the next corridor.

"We've no clues where Blacks goin' next," the old man started off, limping into the Ministers office.

The woman gave an unamused look to the scarred Auror.

Moody ignored it easily. "If we've got to guess, it'd probably be little Harry Potter," he said, setting down into a chair where he could easily see toward the door and window, not that he'd need it really as his bright blue eye was spinning madly in his socket as he settled his other eye on the Minister. "Most Death Eaters would give an arm and a leg to be able to get their hands on him."

"Harry Potter is safe," she said primly, "Albus Dumbledore took charge of the warding, safety, and guardianship of the young Mister Potter. He is under the best wards available to keep people like Black out."

"Might want to check up on him either way," Moody snarled silently, "wouldn't do to have the boy-who-lived kidnapped under our noses."

"He's fine," Bagnold ground out, staring at the man, daring him to continue.

Mad-Eye eyed her for several seconds before deeming it time to continue, "Black escaped due to an Aurors stupidity," he started, taking a form out of his stack, "the idiot forgot to lock the door," he continued as he slid the parchment across the desk to her. The woman opened it up, "that's the form for his immediate release – the idiot stayed up partying a tad too long."

"I want him out of here within the next hour," she said, placing the form down. "If partying over a dead Dark Lord is more important than making sure his followers are in place, we can't have him in the Ministry."

"The fact that he's Potters godfather is going to manage to get out somehow," Moody said comfortably.

Bagnold flinched heavily before sighing. Standing up she snapped at her secretary not to bother her and shut the door heavily. Moody followed up with several silencing charms.

Sitting down, the Minister brought out a small glass of firewhiskey from one of her desk drawers and poured one for herself, and then she glanced up at the Auror, he took out his own drink from his pocket. "Sirius Black still has guardianship over Harry Potter," she said, deciding to get straight into business. If Moody was surprised, he didn't show it. "He didn't have a trial, Crouch wanted Black to be a message to all the other Death Eaters."

Moody snorted, "Crouch's son is in Azkaban now," he said darkly, "if he wanted a message, that would've been it."

"Would've been a message to both sides really."

The Auror took a deep drink from his, what the Minister assumed, was a glass of firewhiskey. "Let me guess," he continued, "since Black wasn't tried and the Potter's will was read, Black wasn't even being held legally by the Ministry, and, as such, the part about the guardianship in the will was magically sealing."

"Making Harry Potter, Sirius Blacks charge." The Minister sighed heavily, "even if he did kidnap Harry Potter, we wouldn't be able to add kidnapping onto his charges legally, and if we tried than we'd have to take the entire thing to court and just get it over with, and then it'd go to show what had happened – and if that happens, than he could sue the Ministry for billions…"

"Or for his freedom," Moody finished, his eye roaming deep within his skull, "he would be able to walk out of here without a single crime to his name."

"Exactly, but if we don't sue for kidnapping–"

"The public would rebel."

Both stared down at each other for several long moments in silence. Bagnold poured herself another drink.

"I expect that Auror should be out soon then," she stated, looking up at the ragged looking man, her tone suggesting that if he wasn't out soon then there will be hell to pay.

"I'll see to it," he said, not standing quite yet as he looked at the woman, "and Potter?"

"We can't do anything more without express permission of the boys guardian."

Moody looked grimly out the window before standing up heavily, "We've want to be sure not be to surprised by Black," he said, turning to walk out of the door, "I taught him myself, the best of the best, that's all I teach." Moody turned and looked at the Minister heavily. "The only person who could probably even have hoped to understand Blacks mind was Potter, and with Potter dead…"

He left it at that as he limped out of the room, taking the silencing wards down with him. He gave the Ministers secretary a long warning look before continuing with his stride, not watching as the Minister settled down into her seat, staring into her glass of firewhiskey, horrified.

This would more than likely be the end of the political realm for the both of them. Probably would go right down there with Barty Crouch Sr.

Moody almost couldn't wait for the ride.

* * *

Sirius sneezed.

He really shouldn't have thought that he could have escaped Azkaban without getting sick or something like that.

And wet, he was extremely and incredibly wet.

And he was also wandless, which wouldn't end well, Sirius knew, as they more than less likely had found out that he had managed to escape from his cell, which was further than anyone else had ever managed to get.

Really, they had it coming, that one idiot forgot to lock the cell that he'd – oh so cheerfully – shoved him in.

Sirius didn't even recognize him; then again, he'd barely recognized Hagrid when he'd found Lily and James'….

Their house was much too dirty, they'd always kept it clean, and the roof was falling in, right over Harry's…

He swallowed heavily. Willing himself to transform, he didn't care if he ended up smelling like wet dog. James would've always said that it didn't matter what he did… he'd always smell of wet dog in the end…

And Harry… little Harry…. His little godson… Hagrid had said that he was taking him to his Aunt and Uncles – Petunia if he remembered correctly. Lily had only sent a letter a few months ago talking about how Harry had destroyed the vase that Petunia had given her… how ugly it'd been… how Harry was going to be a Quidditch star was all James could talk about for months…

Up until only a few days ago.

It felt unreal. Everything. He'd only just seen James the other day, hollering about how he bought Harry a toy snitch, and how he was going to be the next Gryffindor Quidditch star and Peter was there laughing along awkwardly…

A surge of hatred rose in his chest, but he pushed it down angrily, lying down onto the sand, covering his snout with his paws…

Did Peter know then, that it would be the last time that he'd see the Potters alive? That James and Lily would die not a day later? That little Harry would be orphaned…? Did he even think that Harry would survive?

He whined, low in his throat. Harry would be safe. He was with his family, his blood family, and Dumbledore more than likely put a hundred and one wards around the home. Anything to keep Death Eaters and Sirius out… He whined again.

He would just check, just to be sure, just to catch a glimpse…

It couldn't hurt to check on his godson, his charge. No one knew about his animagus form except for Remus, Peter, James, Lily, and Harry… no one would know what Harry was talking about, James and Lily were dead, Peter was hiding – no doubt, but Remus… Remus was questionable whether or not he would tell… They had promised but…

He'd just check. He would make sure that Harry was safe, that no one could harm him, that Harry was happy, and then he would move on. He'd hide, he'd find Peter, and he'd make sure that Voldemort could never hurt Harry again.

But first he'd have to make sure that Harry was safe.

With that in mind, he stood up on all four paws, ignoring the heavy, wet fur pulling down on him, and trotted off the beach, feeling each and every grain of sand that managed to get stuffed up his nose.

Padfoot whined once again.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Dumbledore repaired the teakettle, watching as each of the pieces pierced together one by one before gently placing back onto the kitchen table.

He turned toward the younger, tawny haired man to find the man staring angrily at the teakettle as if all his problems were its fault and that it should've just stayed broken like his life.

Remus Lupin was a bit off his rocker, but that was understandable seeing as three of his best friends died and another one of them as good as killed all three of them and was now out on the run.

"We've no idea what he wants," Dumbledore said gently, placing the teapot out of the man's reach in case he attempted to throw it once again. It was to be expected at least, the last thing that Remus probably expected to hear when Dumbledore popped in for a visit was that Sirius escaped Azkaban. "We're woefully unprepared and due to Crouch's meddling, everything could landslide in Sirius' lap."

"He could get out of the repercussions of his actions," Remus monotoned… Dumbledore sighed, Remus wouldn't be aware of anything for a few days more than likely; it was a stretch of hope that Remus would be able to help them clearly for a few days time. "You don't think," he saw the werewolf look up slightly, "you don't think he'd go after Harry – do you?"

Dumbledore sighed once again. "It's a possibility," he said slowly, "but the wards I've set up around his home should keep Black away."

"But you can't put any more wards up," he intoned.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "I can't, the ward already put up were continuations of Lily's own wards, which was as much that we could do without Sirius' permission. But that should be enough to keep Black out. If he wants harm to befall the child, then he won't be able to get close to him."

"And if it fails," Remus asked brokenly, "it wouldn't be the first time, if it fails, if Sirius does…"

"We'll make sure that Harry is well protected. Don't you worry."

He'd ask Remus later, once Remus was more aware of himself.

The old man stood up and clasped the werewolf's shoulders. Remus stared down at his kitchen table, opting to ignore the headmaster in a desperate attempt to pretend that none of this ever happened and that he'd wake up only to find the last few days a lie, and James and Lily calling him up to see if he wants to come over for dinner, or to chat excitedly about Harry's new word of the day, or Sirius' stupid excuse to get away from his date, or Wormtail's update on how his mother was feeling…

Remus curled into himself as he heard the floo flare, the green tinted shadows dancing along the kitchen walls as Dumbledore left from his living room fireplace.

He was half tempted to follow, begging Dumbledore to take it all back, pleading with him to make everything right.

Remus just wished that his mind, for once in his life, would go thankfully blank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, chapter number two.**

**First off thank you for all of your reviews! I updated it as soon as I could!**

**... I'm watching _Beetlejuice_...**

**-blinks-**

**Sorry, I love that movie, and it's distracting me right now. Alright! I'm just going to leave it as is... the movie is distracting me... Oh! Sorry! Repeated myself. And, well, you may read! Enjoy!**

* * *

"I was hoping that they'd just ignore that it'd ever happened…" Sirius muttered peevishly as he stared at the muggle paper baring his picture. It wasn't even a good picture either. In retrospect, it was an incredibly bad picture. He looked absolutely horrible.

Couldn't they have chosen one that didn't look like death itself?

Then again, by attempting to make him look as bad as he sounded, they managed to make him, now, seem as though he were an entirely different person. Of course, he had to steal the clothes he was currently wearing off of someone's clothesline, but they were clean, they were muggle.

He nodded cheerfully at the man passing by him.

The man didn't even notice that he was a supposed mass-murderer. Excellent. The ministry really _is_ going to the dogs now.

At least Crouch is probably out. Sirius had saw his son getting hauled in the cell across from him only an hour before he'd left. The kid had broken down into a hysterical mess within half an hour.

He felt vaguely bad for the kid.

But he had made it to London, only a bus ride away from Surrey. Of course, when he'd hitched a ride on the back of a truck the night before, he'd hoped that the truck would've been heading to Surry, and he'd kept his eyes open… before he managed to fall asleep.

Needless to say, the driver hadn't been happy to find a massive dog in the back of his trunk when he pulled into London and made a big show of chasing him out and down the street.

Sirius wasn't worried about any of that though, a quick snatching of a person's wallet and he'd be good – he only needed a few pounds, nothing more, and he'd survive.

And, thinking of that, Sirius grinned widely as he saw a man, obviously completely drunk, lumbering off down the street. He was stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk and seemed to have difficulty seeing what color the light in front of him was.

"Oi, buddy, you alright?" Sirius called, walking toward the man purposely.

The man looked around bewildered before catching sight of him. "Hey-oh," he greeted, slurring over his words slightly. Sirius could now see the bloodshot eyes and smell the rot of whiskey all over him and raised a brow in slight amusement. They guy had to be in his sixties, much too old for going out and partying all night while getting drunk off his rocker.

"You need any help?" Sirius asked, and grabbed his arm before he could say another word, "I'll just get you across the street then, it's a not walk sign right now, but ah, there we go, a little man, we can go – you really need to lay off the drinks bud, your going to get a beer belly if you keep on going like this."

Sirius didn't stop to breath as he chatted his head off to the intoxicated man beside him. He just made sure to drag the man along behind him as he crossed the road, cheerfully waving at the van honking at him. "Here we are, you got anywhere you need to be? I've got all day." Not really, well, he did, but he didn't want all day. He just wanted to get the money and leave.

"Nah," the man hiccupped, his ruffled appearance not helping any with the patrons coming out of the nearby restaurant who sent them dark looks. "I've gotta – I've got…" he trailed off, blinking, before looking at Sirius, "who're you again…?"

"Barry," Padfoot invented on the spot. He and James used to be able to make entire biographies without stopping back at Hogwarts, and even during the Auror force. The sad thing was, people nearly always believed them. "I was walking down the street when I saw you, felt I had to stop you. You looked like you needed some help or you'd be running into a car after another second."

"Hey-oh Bar– Barry."

"Well, hey-oh to you too!" Sirius didn't even attempt to hide his smile once he saw the man start to sick up all over the sidewalk. Instead, he snuck his hand into the man's coat pocket. He nearly froze in surprise as his hand brushed against a smooth, wooden wand, and he pulled out the long stick that the man had in his pocket, quickly pocketing it in his jean pocket as the man stood up.

Suddenly the drunken man lumbering around in muggle London made much more sense.

He probably had gotten drunk during the celebrations of Voldemorts down fall, that Sirius assumed would most likely still happening all over the country and would be for sometime. Some people probably hadn't even noticed that he'd escaped Azkaban at all.

Sirius patted the man's back sympathetically. "Why don't you head home?" he asked, gesturing around London, "I'm pretty sure there's a pub over there that you can call a taxi from if you want to." He pointed over toward where he knew the Leaky Cauldron was and the man nodded before stumbling away in that general direction.

Sirius shrugged.

Sliding his hand into his pocket, he had to stifle the yelp of joy that was building up in his throat. So, maybe he stole it, but he still had a wand. And that man was just lucky that Voldemort was dead, because if this happened only a month ago, he'd have most likely been a goner.

So, with a new gait to his step, he walked off, wandering around London in the hopes that he'd find a nice, abandoned alleyway sometime during the night, then he could apparate to Surry without a hitch.

* * *

"I don't want one of them in the house," a large beefy man was the one who hollered that angrily. He glared down at the child on the floor before turning back to his wife. "We've had that thing for a week and nobody's been around to collect it!" He cried out. "Leaving it on the doorstep – what a novel idea!"

"Vernon!" The woman, Petunia, cried out, attempting to shush the man, all the while glancing around the kitchen nervously. "We can't, the letter – it could protect our Dudley!"

She glanced down in slight disguised disgust before turning back to her husband. She was average height, with blond hair and a long, horse-like, neck. "We have to keep it." She said firmly, her voice tight, "If we get rid of it people will talk."

"People don't know that we have it," Vernon said.

Petunia ignored him, picking the child up, wrapped in the same blanket as he had been last week. "We'll hide him away, we can't keep him with our Dudley," she said decisively, "we'll keep him around for a while, and be rid of him in no time – don't you worry."

Vernon's mustache rippled, "We swore we wouldn't have one in the house," he hissed angrily, "remember, we swore–"

"We can stomp it out of him," she said after a moment, "make him miserable every time he does something freaky, we can take something away from him – make it stop."

"Are you sure it will work," he asked as his wife brought the child around to the hallway before opening the cupboard.

"We don't have room for him," she said finally, "all our rooms are taken, and I'll not have him sleep with my Dudders any longer. I'll clean this out, Vernon. Find an old cot for him to sleep in. We can move the cleaning supplies underneath the sink in the kitchen."

Vernon opened his mouth before nodding dumbly. He stared at his wife for a moment, wondering about the strange, unreadable look that she'd given her nephew before placing him gently onto the ground beside her as she turned to clear out the cupboard under the stairs.

"I'll be sure to have one tomorrow dear," he said slowly, walking up the stairs as his wife merely nodded, carefully clearing out the cupboard. He'd pack his overnight bag.

He'd spend the night at Marge's, he couldn't make that trip and back all in one night anyway, and Petunia could take care of the kid. It was her nephew after all, and if it was possible to turn the boy normal, they'd do it. Then he'd bring their own child back home, and be sure to keep Dudley as far away from his cousin as possible.

This was the most that they could do.

Vernon would just ask Marge if she had any extra old cots that they could have, he'd explain their situation the best that he could and move on with life.

Yes, Marge, out of everyone, would be sympathetic to their cause, to what they have to give up and go through. They didn't even get a by-your-leave check to take care of the kid; they got no money out of this…

And what they were risking… if it got out that they were related to a couple of… well… he wouldn't be able to bear it.

And, really, the Potters knew what they thought of _them_. They were just idiots if they decided to leave a child with them. They knew what would happen if they left a child like _that _in their house.

He walked back down the stairs slowly, watching his wife leave her nephew on the floor in front of the cupboard as she walked into the kitchen, carrying the cleaning supplies that they had locked beneath there…

Turning, he lifted his car jacket from the hook beside the door – the house was eerily silent… too silent – and placed it on, before opening the door and stepping out. Neither his wife nor him said anything to each other. He'd be home tomorrow. They could take care of everything then.

He wasn't about to let this kid, this _thing_, infect his Dudley.

* * *

Remus shifted on the balls of his feet as he waited for the man in front of him to _finally move, goddamn you, I don't have all day, you stupid idiot – I've got to, _so that he could finally get into the telephone booth.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy for the werewolf who was moving anxiously behind the closed doors waiting for the man inside to finally step out. _Yeah_, he thought sarcastically, _take your sweet old time, ya' asshole. _Lily was always a horrible influence… worst road rage that he'd ever seen.

"Thank you," he muttered under his breath as he saw the man finally step out. Remus sent him a glare as the bloke gave him a grin.

Why was he so bloody cheerful?

He squeezed through into the small space of the phone booth, thanking Merlin that he managed to make it out of his house without the ministry wizards following him. Out of all the people they were watching, it had to be him. Did Merlin hate him or something?

"Petunia…" he said under his breath, pulling out the phone book that was shoved in the small space underneath the pay phone. "Petunia… Petunia…" Who did she marry again? Ver- something that started with Ver, James always called him Vermin…. Ah, Vernon, that was it, Mr. Evans had to bop James over the head several times whenever he referred to him as Vermin.

Vernon and Petunia what?

Now, he almost wished that Lily had spoken about her sister more often. He remembered that Lily and James had gone to the wedding, Lily's mother had nearly forced her, and Petunia had been to Lily's wedding but he hadn't seen Vernon…

That and Remus had never been to Lily's sisters house. James and Sirius had, of course, they thought it would be a jolly good time to change a few things… namely the colors… and the furniture… and everyone in the neighborhood was hearing voices too. James was mad at something Petunia had said about Lily if he remembered correctly.

He fumbled with the phone book, pulling it open and just sorting through the pages randomly, hoping without hope that he would see… _Dursley._

Vernon and Petunia _Dursley. _He thanked Merlin once again for the gigantic Grunnings advertisement on the page. Vernon Dursley was written neatly beneath it.

The tawny-haired man flipped back to the front of the book, skimming through the D's in a vain search, before his finger finally slowed down onto the name.

He grinned as he wrote down the address.

Remus sincerely hoped that Vernon and Petunia wouldn't mind a late houseguest that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I'm going to keep this simple and to the point. Third chapter, read, review, enjoy. You all are awesome. Thank you.**

* * *

"Remus Lupin has disappeared."

Alaster "Mad-Eye" Moody sighed as he heard Dumbledore bring him the news. He had known that it would have probably have been something big once the old coot had walked through the door without a single greeting or offer of a lemon drop. At least he thought to sit down and go straight into business instead of beating around the bush like usual.

"It's to be expected," Moody said gruffly, "we'll have to label him a suspect."

"He took the news of Black's escape hard," Dumbledore explained quietly, "I probably shouldn't have told him straight away, but he had to know, and I had hoped…."

Mad-Eye snorted, "Lupin definitely would have had the best knowledge of where Black would go and what would happen in his mind. Too bad it's broke."

"Alaster," Moody ignored Albus' sharp reply.

"We'll at least have to find him before he hurts himself, or someone else." Moody knew, more than anyone, what someone who had nothing left to live for could do. Or, in Lupin's case, he probably was only living for a little Harry Potter, which could be even more dangerous.

And the last thing Moody wanted to deal with was an overprotective, devastated werewolf.

"I'm surprised," the auror said, pushing his seat back, "that you came here to tell me before my own aurors."

"They hadn't realized until I went back to visit the man," Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid that I've been sending someone, and going there myself, everyday, to be sure that Remus wouldn't do anything rash. He snuck past your aurors earlier. I don't know when."

Mad-Eye stood up abruptly, "The qualities goin' down," he snarled viciously, "each and every auror is loosing their quality. 'The dark lords _dead_, don' got to work no more'…."

"Many people have been celebrating," the old man said softly, "you cannot blame them, we've had little to celebrate for eleven years."

"That piece of shit's not gonna' work on me," Moody said angrily, stalking angrily out of the room, his blue eye whizzing around in his socket. "I'm gonna' have a nice, long talk with all these idiots. One mistake after another…" His limp seemed more pronounced as he slammed the door shut behind him, Albus Dumbledore still sitting in his chair in the office.

He really needed a drink, a nice long drink while sitting in the dark at home, without any idiotic aurors to look after… then again, it would be fun to watch them run extra laps ten times over.

It may just be worth it.

He was retiring soon anyway.

* * *

"Oi! Watch it!"

The werewolf sent a sorry wave behind him as he jumped over the last few cracks in the sidewalk, side-stepping another pedestrian as he attempted to avoid running anyone else over.

If he wanted to get to Surry quickly, he had to sacrifice a few things, such as time. He couldn't very well apparate to Surry in the middle of the day, everyone would see. And that would just destroy the entire plan that he had come up with. Of course, he wasn't exactly thinking of the fact that if he did that, the ministry would have to go to Private Drive in order to obliviate all the muggles and then, well, anyone would see Black if they took their good old time.

Then again, that would be too much grief for the werewolf, and he wouldn't have got off easy. At all.

Plus, no one but him knew that Sirius was an animagus.

He side-stepped another person, a fat guy wobbling down the street, purpling face sneering at the strangely dressed man, "Watch where you're goin'!" Remus heard him bark angrily.

He yelled an apology at the man, not noticing his torn car jacket or grease stained hands as he sprinted the last few feet as he saw the bus begin to pull up.

Remus finally felt it safe to slow down. And, breathing heavily, he fumbled in his robes for the extra change that he'd stolen from Lily's purse only days ago. He pulled it out, stared blankly at it for a moment, and then took (what Remus assumed) was worth the most.

"Got any change?" he asked, leaping onto the bus as soon as the doors opened, ignoring the grumbles of people behind him. He gave the man the paper dollar, hoping against hope that it was enough (but it was paper, how would paper be worth more he didn't know) and thanking Merlin as the man gave him a few pence in change. "Thanks."

With that, he took the change, and stumbled over onto one of the open seats, sitting next to the window where he could easily see where they were.

A few people shot him dark looks as they entered the bus.

Remus, seemingly oblivious of the looks, just shifted nervously in his seat. He really couldn't believe that he was doing this… It was insane, stupid, absolutely _mental_. It was something that Sirius would do…

And with that he gulped heavily. He knew that Sirius would, and _could_, do this. Which was exactly why he was.

It was simple. He had to kidnap Harry before Sirius could kidnap Harry.

Then he'd decide what to do and how to go about it.

Simple as that, he hoped.

* * *

Sirius moaned.

He was in pain, simple as that. Sure, it wasn't as bad as that time that he was held under the cruciatus curse by his cousin Bellatrix, it wasn't even as bad as when he nearly had his bits chopped off by an angry ex-girlfriend, it wasn't even as bad as when he managed to get cut open during a death eater attack.

But he stubbed his toe, and that just hurt.

He winced once again as put more pressure onto his big toe. "Merlin damn it…" he moaned out once again.

He'd made it to Surry all right. He and James had been here before to pull a prank on his in-laws once before. A sort of "welcome to the family" kind of thing. Lily didn't seem to think of it that way and was incredibly pissed at him, but it was fun all the same.

And Sirius was just glad that he'd already thought of check for alley ways that day, he and James always had to have an escape route planned for their large pranks like that one.

It was just his luck though that he'd get the alleyway with a dumpster in it. He grimaced, gingerly adding more pressure onto his toe. "Damn," he moaned softly. Now he was cold, tired, hungry, wet, and in pain. This day just couldn't get any better could it?

He walked around the dumpster slowly, thankful that with each step he took, the pain seemed to fade until he was standing in the lit streets of Little Whinging, Surry.

It was still daytime, for which he was thankful (for a while there, he had thought that he'd never see the sunlight again), and stepped out onto the sidewalk, ignoring some of the house wives strange glances as they peered out their windows or tended to their gardens. He gave Mrs. Number 8 a charming smile before continuing on to Number 4.

Thank Merlin that he actually remembered where Lily's sister lived. It would have been fairly embarrassing if he forgot again.

Not as embarrassing as that time that he forgot where his apartment was and ended up crashing on the front doorstep of Remus' house, but embarrassing all the same.

He could've skipped as he approached the bland white house.

Sirius walked up to the door, carefully noting that the car wasn't in the driveway and hoping that they weren't out (he was going to check on his godson whether they liked it or not… although popping in unannounced saying that you're that escaped mass murderer that they've most likely seen on the tele and then asking to see their nephew probably wasn't the way to go about it). He had a limited time as it was. He couldn't risk getting caught – not until Peter was in custody and paying for what he did.

He knocked sharply on the door, giving up on attempting to peer in through the windows and cheerfully ignoring the suspicious glances that he got from Mrs. Number 6.

A strange horse-faced woman opened the door.

For a moment, Sirius was almost certain that he'd gotten the wrong house.

… At least, until he remembered the pictures that Lily had in her old family photo album. Finally seeing her sister face to face, Sirius had to wonder if Petunia or Lily was adopted, they didn't look alike at all.

It was rather unsettling.

She sniffed at him kind of angrily, Sirius almost wanted to ask if she needed allergy medicine… "And you want…?" The woman prompted, giving him an odd look.

"Could I come in?" Might as well be civil about this, Sirius pondered as she gave him a long, queer look, "I have something of importance to ask you, and I don't feel that we should do it on a doorstep, people may talk," as if he said the magic word, she quickly stepped aside, allowing him to walk past her and into the sitting room. "Thank you."

"Who are you and what do you want to talk about," she asked quickly, angrily, looking around the place as if worried that a gossiper would pop out of nowhere and start asking questions.

Sirius bit down the question of 'what's in your bonnet' and swallowed heavily. "I want to see my godson."

She suddenly looked at him sharply, "I don't have your godson," she said slowly, looking him up and down questionably… suspiciously.

"You are Petunia Dursley, right?" He continued at her nod. "I'm Sirius Black," he said, quelling the urge to laugh as she suddenly sat ramrod straight in her seat, her eyes darting to the phone before settling back on the man in horror, "I see you've heard of me…" he muttered dryly.

"You don't look like the man on the news!" She cried out shrilly, ignoring his attempts to shush her, "You don't – you – godson!"

"Harry Potter," he said, once again, wanting to see his godson, but if she thought he was a murderer it was almost zero to nilch that he would see the kid – at least he hoped that she'd try and stop him.

Petunia jumped up, horrified, and pointed a shaky finger at him, "You're, you're… you're one of _them_."

"There are lots of thems," Sirius said, not bothering to jump up from his seat as he slowly took his stolen wand out, spinning it around in his hand, which managed to stop the woman in her tracks. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"If you want the boy," she began, ignoring the insinuation, the question, "you can take him, I don't want him."

Sirius grasped the wand tightly. "You're his aunt!" He said, finally standing up, "You can't just hand him over to the first person hat you see! You'd hand him over to an insane mass murderer!"

"You're apparently the boys godfather," she said nervously, backing up, horrified, "and – and I don't want him… They just left him on the doorstep, with nothing. What are we supposed to do, we're not equipped to take care of two children!"

"You don't hand him over to a mass murderer!" Seriously, she was worse than his aunts – and his aunts were horrible.

"Well we didn't _ask_ for him," she told him shrilly as Sirius stood up off his perch, "we've been waiting for someone to pick him up for a week! No one's come! If he really was as famous as that – that _old coot_ said he is, then someone would've come to collect him, but _no_ they left him on _our _doorstep, without even a by your leave! Nothing!" She breathed heavily from her nose, staring at the man standing in front of her, taking no notice of his murderous expression. "_They didn't even have the nerve to tell me that my sister died_."

Whatever Sirius expected her to say, that was not it. He paused, breathing heavily, and frowned. "I want to see my godson," he repeated, if they were taking their anger out on _his Harry_… "I want to see him _now_."

The blond haired woman gave him a long withering look, and spun around on the spot, Sirius was half tempted to follow her, watching as she barely walked out of sight before he heard the loud bang of a door slamming. His grip tightened on his wand as he heard the terrified cries of a small child.

He snarled at her as she entered the room, holding Harry out in front of her as if he'd infect her without a moments notice.

"Well," she snapped, holding the terrified child out, "are you going to take him or not?"

Sirius gave her a withering look as he took the small boy out of her hands, "Hey Prongslet," he whispered softly, the child's cry's relented slightly as bright green eyes came up to look at him through lidded eyes. "It's your Uncle Padfoot, remember?"

Harry blew a raspberry as he turned to play with the man's (slightly greasy, Sirius needed to wash it) hair.

"Sorry, kid," he whispered, as the boys other hand came up to grasp the mans mouth, "I don't have any chocolate today – that's Uncle Moony's forte, remember?" He didn't know why he was so dead set on making sure the child remembered him, he'd been gone for more than a week before on missions, and the boy had never forgotten him, but he'd been so close on having to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban… the thought… He pulled the boy tightly against his chest.

"So," the abrupt hiss startled Sirius as he turned back to the boy's aunt. "Are you going to take him or not? Cause if you are – _get out_!"

He gave her a long stare before glancing back down at his godson, "I suspect," he began slowly, not quite sure what he was going to say, "that you won't have to see us, ever again."

With that, he sent one last, scathing look at the woman and walked out into the hall.

He turned in the direction that he'd seen her turn to once she picked up his godchild, and blinked owlishly as he saw only a cupboard under some stairs, but they couldn't have… without thinking, without wanting to _know_, Sirius glanced down at the boy, still dressed in the same outfit as he was last week (although he was happy to note that it was clean, even if it was old), grasped the child tightly, and walked out.

He would be able to take better care of the boy than these _idiots_ would.

Like hell he'd ever let the child even step foot in this town again… a bunch of busy nobodies they were…


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry for the wait, nearly a week... ugh. I've been slacking. It's not really like I have all that much to do lately. Sure, running around for my mom and grandmom, but other than that, I've not really hung out with my friends every day. There are days when I'm sitting here bored...**

**I really need to stop procrastinating.**

**But, I'm sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't the longest, but I'll try to have the next one out soon. Sorry. And, I'm working on my next chapter for Merlin Sickness. It's been a month since I updated that one. Finals got in the way of that, and I just haven't got back to it until now, so that story should be updated soon.**

**Alright, and, even though you probably gathered this on your own: I don't own Harry Potter. **

* * *

Vernon felt his eye twitch as he watched _yet another_ weirdo cheerfully walk down the street. He didn't know why they had to be so _bloody cheerful_. If anything, all these people needed a goddamn reality check.

At least they aren't nearly as bad as that _one_ that decided to run into him, didn't even take the time to stop and apologize.

He scowled at his oil-covered hands. It was time for a new mechanic, that was for sure. And Marge was expecting him in another hour, and he had not changed, that was just brilliant.

The man walked even further toward the general location of where he believed the mechanics were. He glanced at a nearby sign. _Charring Cross Road_. Excellent. He had no idea of where he was.

* * *

Remus drummed his fingers against the seat in annoyance.

This mode of transportation took _forever_. Why couldn't they have just added the Dursley household to the floo network? It would've made everything ten times easier.

A better question – why didn't he just apparate?

Now he sincerely wished that he'd accompanied James and Sirius on their quest to prank Petunia and Vernon, it would've made everything so much easier…

He tapped his foot against the seat in front of him. The seat tilted back.

Remus distinctly felt his eye twitch. It wasn't _his_ fault that he was antsy. Let that guy attempt to kidnap his dead best friend's son so that another traitor of a best friend _can't_ kidnap him all the while trying to hide what you're doing from a ministry of _magic_.

He snorted divisively; the bloke wouldn't survive for a minute. _Remus: 1. Muggle: 0._ He thought rather proudly. Wasn't his fault that James had been just as bad an influence as Lily. All four of them had been making mental counts since third year.

His eyes wandered the bus, taking in the stoic, bored expressions of the people surrounding him, and the few people that had brought a book to read. Those few were shoved in little corners, by the windows, attempting to make sure they had enough light to read by.

He glanced outside again. They'd never get to…

He trailed off, nearly growling as the bus stopped once again, picking up a few stragglers who were waiting patiently at the bus stop… that was only a few blocks away from his house. His eye twitched once again.

* * *

Peter scrambled hesitantly over a small potted plant, almost positive that he'd seen a gnome stumbling about, and glanced up at the house he was currently outside of.

He'd been to this house once before, it was on one of the Dark Lords raids, Malfoy had been hoping to raid the house for months, and they'd nearly burnt it down before the Ministry Aurors had arrived. There was, thankfully (for the family at least), no one home. The Weasley's had apparently been out shopping. Lucius had thrown a tantrum once they'd knocked down the door of an empty house.

But Arthur Weasley worked for the ministry, and, although he had several children, Peter would be able to easily worm his way into the attic and keep track of what was happening in the wizarding world.

His Lord was gone, he knew that already, maybe not forever, but for now, he was gone – dead. Dead by the child that Peter wanted to die. Dead by the child who had torn their friendship apart. Dead by a _thrice-Merlin damned infant!_

Peter had always hated children. Harry had only increased that hate.

It didn't help matters that the boy seemed to understand that Peter didn't like him, and, due to that, Lily had taken to inviting Padfoot over, more and more, since the man seemed to have a soft spot for her little boy. Even James had taken to inviting Moony over as much as he could in hopes that the werewolf would forget that he was a werewolf for all of five seconds and hold the kid.

Everyone had soon forgotten about poor little _Peter_. For who would care about Peter when you could have that _cute, little Harry_.

And instead of being dead, the child was even _more_ popular, even more loved, by the general public, people toasting the kids _name_ for Merlin's sake.

But Sirius was in Azkaban, and Remus believed him dead, and for the first time since last week, Peter allowed his guard to come down, and he blinked sleepily, forgetting about the possible gnome infestation as he curled into himself.

It seemed to be getting darker, Peter decided, as he blinked one last time as a shadow fell over him.

Wormtail had always been a deep sleeper, able to sleep in almost any situation.

* * *

"Where'd Harry go," Dumbledore went straight for the point, asking the question directly, once again (it was rather strange to be doing that twice in one day) as he surveyed Petunia Dursley from behind his half moon glasses.

Instead of answering, the young woman let out a particularly loud screech as she spun around, wielding the kitchen knife that she had been using.

Of course, Dumbledore should've seen this coming, he had just let himself into the house without warning, but the alarms had gone off – what else could he have done? He didn't let that bother him though as he merely spared a glance at the knife before, once again, focusing on the woman before him. "Where is your nephew?"

"What are you _doing_ here!"

The old man let out a soft sigh before settling down to sit at the kitchen table. He gestured to the seat across from him.

The blond woman gave him a long, searching look before gradually making her way to the proffered seat, never letting go of the knife's handle.

"Where's Harry Potter?" he repeated, for the third time, as he watched the woman.

She blinked slowly. "Harry…?" She trailed off, giving him a strange stare before blinking owlishly. "He went out with Vernon," she said slowly, as if unaware of what she was saying. She blinked once again. "Dudley was staying with his Aunt Marge and Vernon went to go pick him up, I told him to take Harry with him – they could bond see?"

Dumbledore furrowed his brow, and gave the woman a searching look, taking notice of the strange look in her eye before he nodded slowly. "And where does this Aunt Marge live?"

"Just outside of London."

He nodded, half wanting to pick up his wand and remove the spells placed on her, but it'd be too dangerous. He instead, gave her a small smile, thanked her, and apparated out of the house.

He'd head to the ministry first; it'd probably take nearly a week to just remove all of the spells placed on the woman.


End file.
